The First Fight
by Muggle Jane
Summary: It's been three days since their first real fight, and Hermione wants to patch things up with Ron. Written for Michy for the GGE2014.


**A/N: I don't own any of the canon characters or situations. Written for Michy for the GGE2014**

It had been three days since they'd spoken. Three days of separate meals, three days of hurriedly leaving the room when the other came in, three days of a stiff back from sleeping on the sofa that had yet to be even broken in yet. Hermione couldn't even remember what the argument had been about. They'd disagreed about something, that wasn't new. Ron had responded with a particularly cutting comment, something he'd picked up as a way to fight back against four brothers who were all bigger than he was, and she had to admit now, her reply had probably been a bit condescending. She clearly remembered, "If that's really the way you feel, then you can sleep on your own tonight," and then the exodus to the sitting room sofa with her pillow and a very disgruntled Crookshanks.

Harry- she felt bad about Harry. He clearly felt like he was stuck in the middle of his two feuding best friends, not knowing what would be construed as taking sides. It wasn't right, that he would be made to feel so uncomfortable in his own house. For that, if for no other reason, it was time to make things right with Ron.

She set her book very carefully on the sofa beside her, the side Crookshanks wasn't cuddled up to, the side with her lonely pillow. Her pillow, snug in its blank white pillowcase, really did look lonely there on the sofa, laying on top of her neatly folded duvet. It was time to stop being lonely.

Standing, she stretched. She'd heard the voices as Ron and Harry had come in from work, and hadn't heard them leave again, which meant he was still somewhere in the house. The only question was, where?

She knew that he hadn't spent much time in the room they were supposed to be sharing. She'd had to duck in there for clean clothes and her hairbrush, and he'd been notably absent every time. Hermione had even come up with a couple of extra excuses to go into the bedroom up on the second storey, but Ron had been elsewhere. She sighed.

Maybe the kitchen? She listened for a moment, but didn't hear the friendly banter that usually happened over meal times drifting up the stairs and through the open door.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked the bandy-legged part-Kneazle. Crookshanks cracked one eye at her and gave her a rather unamused look before the eye closed again. She was on her own.

Well, the only thing to do was to go looking for him. Why did Harry's house have to be so very tall? It was even more maze-like than the Burrow.

Sighing again, she crossed to the open doorway and went out into the hall, running straight into a jumper-covered chest. She knew who it was before she looked up, and she certainly hadn't been expecting to quite literally run into him in the hall outside the sitting room.

She looked up, rubbing her nose. Ron looked distinctly sheepish. "Sorry, 'Mione. I didn't see you coming out the door."

"No, I'm sorry. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going."

They fell silent, both looking around the hall instead of at each other, both seeming at a loss for words. Despite her resolve to end their argument, it seemed a little daunting now that she was actually right in front of him. What if he didn't forgive her?

"Harry wants to get take-away tonight," Ron said finally. "Something about Indian."

"Curry's fine." Hermione fixed her gaze on the smooth woolen front of Ron's handknit jumper. Ever since they'd moved into Harry's rowhouse in London, Molly had started fussing over her youngest son even more than normal, dropping by at least twice a week with homecooked meals or handmade jumpers. Ron groused about it, but they were all a little reassured by Molly's constant, mothering presence.

"Look, I'm sorry," Ron said at last, finally looking into Hermione's face. "I shouldn't have said those things. I don't... Half the time I open my mouth before I think, and I don't mean the things I say."

"I know." She gave him a small smile before moving towards him, resting her cheek against his chest. Her arms went around him, and it took just a moment before he was embracing her in return. "I'm sorry too. I know I can get a bit lecture-y. You're not stupid, Ron, I just wish... I just wish you'd think more sometimes."

His arms tightened around her, and they stood in the hall, silent in each other's embrace. This was the first real fight they'd had as a couple. After a summer of recovery, he'd gone to work as an Auror and she'd gone back to school, and they hadn't seen a whole lot of each other until Hogwarts had let out for the year just a few weeks ago. It was a bit of an adjustment for both of them, to go from hardly seeing each other to living together.

"We'll get there," Hermione murmured. She didn't know if Ron knew what she was talking about, but she heard a noise of agreement.

"Made up, have we?" Harry asked briskly from the other end of the hall, and Hermione raised her head from its comfortable resting spot to turn and look at him.

For his part, Harry looked relieved. It had been hard on him that they'd been arguing.

Hermione felt a fresh wave of guilt. "Sorry, Harry," she said.

He brushed away the apology with a gesture of his hand. "I was hoping you two would make up by dinnertime. Now we can go out to eat." He turned away, headed towards the coat stand at the front door. Once there he paused, turning to look back at them. "You coming?"

Smiling now, with her arm around Ron's waist and his around her shoulders, the two moved down to where their friend was waiting for them, a strangely content look on his face.


End file.
